


A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

by jeeno2



Series: Arya x Gendry Week [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Costumes, Crack, Dick Pics, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Humor, Mild Sexual Content, Penises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4385072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gendry accidentally texts Arya a series of scandalous pictures he meant to send to his friend.  Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Idlebrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idlebrain/gifts), [crossingwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/gifts).



> Written for Arya x Gendry Week, 2015.

Arya is in Calculus when her phone buzzes with a new text.  

She ignores it, just like she usually does when she gets texts in class.  Especially when she gets them in Calculus.  She likes this class -- angles and related rates make intuitive sense to her in a way that words and verb conjugations never really have.  And she likes Professor Luwin too, the elderly man who teaches it.  She refuses to distract him by texting in class the way the other kids do.  

A few more minutes go by and Arya’s phone buzzes with another text.  And then a few minutes after that a third text comes in.  

When her phone buzzes for the fourth time in fifteen minutes she reaches into her bag with a huff and shuts the stupid thing off.  If it’s her mom trying to reach her, she can wait.  There’s nobody who needs to get in touch with her so badly they can’t wait an hour.  

* * *

Arya forgets to turn her phone back on until much later that day, when Sansa comes into her room to see if she wants to join her for pizza.

“Marg said she texted you about an hour ago to invite you but that you didn’t respond,” Sansa says, shrugging.  “I figured that meant you weren’t interested.  But I thought I’d double-check anyway.”

“Oh, yeah,” Arya says quickly, remembering.  She rummages around in her bag until she finds her phone.  “Sorry, I shut it off earlier.  Kept buzzing during class.”  She turns the phone on and puts it back into her bag.  “I’m hungry, so yeah.  Where are we going?”

“How about the Cheeseboard?”

Arya’s stomach growls by way of response, making her sister laugh.

“It sounds perfect,” Arya says, slipping on a pair of flipflops and shouldering her bag.  “Let’s go.”  

* * *

 

It’s only six p.m., but the line of students at the pizza counter is already at least fifteen deep by the time Arya, Sansa, and Margaery get to the restaurant.  They quickly agree that Arya will scout out a table for them while Sansa and Marg place the orders.  Otherwise they’ll never get a seat.

“You want the usual?” Margaery asks her.

“Yeah,” Arya replies.  “Just cheese and buttered parsnips on my half, please.”

Sansa makes a face at Arya’s order, but that’s nothing new.  Arya has always enjoyed the sharp tang of parsnips on her pizza -- in her pasta, in her stews, in almost everything really -- for as long as she can remember.  Sansa, who inherited her more traditional taste buds from their mother, accuses Arya of having been raised by wolves whenever she orders in restaurants.  

“My superior taste in food is my eccentricity.  Nothing more,” Arya always says, shrugging.

* * *

 

It is there, in the Cheeseboard, seated at a table by the window, sandwiched between a table of kids studying French and a group of stoners laughing at nothing at all, that Arya Stark sees her first penis.  Or, more accurately, photographs of her first penis taken from four different angles.

This was not what she expected to find when she began scrolling through her texts from earlier in the day.  When she remembered about the texts from earlier she figured they must have either been from her mother, wanting to remind Arya about something she’d likely forgotten, or perhaps from Robb, who just started med school at Harvard and has been having nonstop panic attacks the past three months straight.  

When she sees what is  _actually_  on her phone -- unsolicited images of a respectably-sized penis  that leans a little to the left -- she gives an involuntary yelp and knocks over the full glass of water on the table in front of her.  

She knows she should delete these pictures right away -- that she shouldn’t give the freak who sent them to her the satisfaction of her looking at them.  And so she does delete them, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she hits the delete button four times in rapid succession.

She eats her buttered parsnip pizza mechanically when it arrives, finding, suddenly, that she has no appetite.

* * *

 

As Arya is getting ready for bed several hours later her phone, perched on the bathroom counter next to her as she brushes her teeth, buzzes with another text.  She sees right away that it’s from the same number that sent her those dick pics.  

Her stomach sinks.  “Not more of this bullshit,” she mutters under her breath.

But despite her better judgment -- despite the voice in the back of her head telling her she should close her eyes and delete the new text; that she should just block the freak who’s been sending her these messages once and for all -- she keeps her eyes wide open and glances down at the screen.

 

> _OH MY GOD.  OH MY GOD OH MY GOD.  THIS ISN’T LEM’S NUMBER IS IT.  OH OH OH SHIT OH MY GOD._
> 
>  

Arya raises an eyebrow in irritation.  Picking up her phone, she sits down cross-legged on the floor and decides she might as well respond to this creep and let him know she’s about to block him.

 

 _Who the hell is this?_ she texts.   _I’m about to block your number, you freak._

 

A long pause.

>  
> 
> _Oh my god, whoever you are, I’m so, so, so sorry about those pictures I sent earlier.  Oh my god.  It was just a joke.  I swear it was just a joke._  
> 

 

Arya rolls her eyes.

 

 _Yeah, I’m definitely not  this “Lem” person,_ she tells him. _And before you say anything else to me you better put on some goddamn underwear._

 

Another long pause.

>  
> 
> _Oh my god.  I mean, yes, I’m wearing underwear.  I’m not naked right now I’m -- ugh, it was just a stupid bet I made with my idiot friend Lem who I swear to god I’m going to MURDER the next time I see._  
> 

 

In spite of herself Arya has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.  He meant to send those pictures to a friend?  What kind of idiot does something like that?

 

_Why on earth would you send pictures of your dick to your friend?_

 

Arya stares at her fingernails as she waits for the person to write back.

>  
> 
> _Lem’s been my friend for fifteen years.  He just moved to New Jersey, though.  Last week he told me he thought his... you know...  was bigger than mine. He sent me a bunch of pics of his dick to prove it because that’s the sort of asshole he is.  And because I’m a moron I decided to pay him back the only way I knew how.  But I just got a new phone, and lost all my contacts, and obviously I dialed your number by mistake instead of his._  
> 

 

Arya doesn’t know what to say in response to any of that.  But she also doesn’t really care what sort of bet he’s made with his friend.  Just when she’s about to tell this guy goodbye and block his phone number forever he texts back one final time.

>  
> 
> _Look -- I swear to god I’m not a creep.  My name is Gendry Waters.  I’m a normal person, honest to god.  I’m an assistant in the undergrad chemistry lab at the University of Winterfell.  I’ve worked there for years. Just, please -- delete those pictures, okay?  You can block my number, I totally get it.  I just wanted to say I’m sorry.  Have a good life._  
> 

 

Arya sits on the floor, phone in right hand, for a full thirty minutes after Gendry Waters sends his last text.  

She’s signed up to take Chemistry II next semester.  She needs it in order to graduate.  No matter what she does it looks like she’s going to have to see this Gendry Waters again, and very soon.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part, written for Day 4 of Arya x Gendry week. The prompt: "Secret Relationship." I'm turning this into a four-part saga. Please forgive me.

When Arya arrives at her chemistry classroom on the first day of the new semester she’s relieved to discover it’s absolutely packed with students.

 _It’ll be safer this way_ , she muses as she finds a seat in the back row, hoping she’ll go unnoticed there.   _Easier to be anonymous._

Over the summer Arya spent an inordinate amount of time dreading meeting Gendry Waters, the guy whose junk she saw via text, face-to-face.  It’s not that she’s angry with him.  Not anymore, anyway, now that she knows he’s just a complete idiot, not a creeper. But the images she saw in those four photos he accidentally sent her – that dick; those balls; and, oh god, all of that hair – have been seared into her brain in a way she would never admit to anybody.  And in a way she suspects would completely distract her from the substance of this class if she had to interact with the person to whom these items are ostensibly attached.

 _Maybe the lab assistants don’t interact with the students_ , she hopes against hope as the professor enters the room.

“Turn to page one hundred and seventy-three,” Professor Aemon says, hands clasped behind his back as he paces behind the podium.  Arya does as he instructs, grateful for the opportunity to lose herself in chemistry for an hour. “All right, class – let’s begin.”

* * *

 

Before dismissing everyone at the end of class Professor Aemon passes around a sheet of lined paper.

“I need to assign you your lab partners as well as the times you’ll be expected to be working in the lab itself,” he explains.  “Please provide your class and work schedule, email addresses, phone numbers – all of that sort of thing, so that I can match you up based on your availability during the week.”

Arya looks at her phone anxiously, hoping this won’t make her late for Calculus.  Fortunately, the paper comes her way after only a few moments. She hastily scrawls down her information before shouldering her bag and making her way for the door.

* * *

 

_~ Ten hours later ~_

“Hey, Gendry,” Hot Pie says, pushing back from his chair and stretching.  “I think I’m gonna head out.  That ok?”

Gendry Waters glances up at the clock hanging on the wall over his desk.  When he sees it’s already past ten he groans, rubbing a hand over his face.   Exhausted, he leans back in his chair and yawns, stretching his arms over his head until he hears the joints in his shoulders give a satisfying pop and crack.

“Yeah,” he says to Hot Pie, nodding.  His friend finished making assignments for his half of the class already.  There’s really no need for him to stick around just because Gendry’s not done yet.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, man,” Hot Pie says, grabbing his bag.  “I’ll see ya.”

Gendry’s been at University of Winterfell for four years now.  If he’s learned anything, it’s that the first part of the semester is always the hardest.  There’s just so much administrative crap that needs to be done at the very beginning, what with making sure all the students in Professor Aemon’s class have all the lab equipment they need to get started right away.  To say nothing of the nightmare that is assigning everybody their lab partners.  

In theory, the assignments are supposed to be an easy job.  Aemon gives him and Hot Pie the list of his students, complete with their schedules and contact information.  And then he and Hot Pie –  again, in theory – just need to make a simple spreadsheet and jot down whose schedules are compatible with whose.  

But the reality is a lot of the students at University of Winterfell are temperamental little brats. That’s been Gendry’s experience, anyway. Each semester there’s usually at least a half-dozen kids who come find him after getting their assignments to complain about how they don’t like who they’ve been given, or how they don’t like the time slot they’ve been assigned, and how he needs to fix it right away.

In the end, what  _in theory_ should be a two hour job inevitably takes the better part of two days.

Gendry takes a bite of his stale sandwich and rubs his eyes again, deciding that he’s going to just muscle through the rest of the assignments tonight so he doesn’t have to deal with it in the morning.

But then he looks down at the second-to-last name and phone number on the sheet in front of him and nearly chokes on his ham and swiss.  

* * *

 

Gendry hasn’t done a lot of things he really and truly regrets in his life.  

Sure, he did some pretty dumb things as a kid.  Cut class a few times too often.  Got drunk with people he probably shouldn’t have been hanging around with in the first place.

It wasn’t until this past May, though – when, on a dare from his idiot friend, he took pictures of his dick and then accidentally texted them to a complete stranger – that he’d done something that made him wish the earth would just open up and swallow him whole.

He’ll never forget the number he texted.  It’s practically the same number as fucking Lem’s, of course – which is why he made the mistake in the first place.  But the last two numbers are flipped.  

It’s a mistake, and a phone number, he’s pretty sure will stay burned in his memory for the rest of his life.  And it’s a phone number that, if the piece of paper he’s staring at right now can be believed, belongs to a student in Professor Aemon’s class this semester. To a girl named Arya Stark.  

A girl.   _A girl_. Oh god – he texted pictures of his junk to a girl, a college student, someone whose parents likely pay a lot of money for her to go here, someone who he’s going to have to email tomorrow morning to assign her a partner and a lab slot.

Someone who knows the name of the idiot who texted her, too, thanks to him.

“Oh shit,” Gendry says under his breath.  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”  

But after freaking out for the better part of a minute, he decides that he can do this.  He can.  There’s no reason Professor Aegon needs to find out about this secret history he has with one of his students.  There’s no reason Arya Stark needs to know that the guy who texted her last May works for her chemistry professor.

Before leaving for the night, Gendry shoots off a quick email to Hot Pie, asking him to please take care of one of his final assignments for him.  “It’ll really help me out,” he hastily adds at the end.    If Hot Pie only knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written (belatedly) for axgweek's prompt, "Nerves." Thanks for reading, everyone. :)

As a general rule Gendry tries to keep as much distance from the undergrads as possible.  

For one thing, he’s technically sort of their supervisor.  For another, he’s five years older than a lot of them.  Either of those things by itself would be enough to make hanging out with them totally weird.  Together, they make spending time with any of them outside of class totally repellent.

But the biggest reason he stays away is his background couldn’t be more different than theirs.  Most of these kids come from very privileged backgrounds. In contrast, he grew up in foster care and has had a paying job since he was fourteen.  It’s hard enough being reminded of how fucking _easy_  these kids have it every single day he comes to work without the additional complications befriending one of them would bring.

But despite his policy of distance within a matter of days Gendry’s figured out which of the new students is Arya Stark.  He’s also figured out he’s probably completely screwed.

* * *

 

In the short time she’s been in Aemon’s class Gendry can tell there’s something noteworthy about Arya.  A lot of somethings, actually.  She’s smart – whip smart; at least based on what he’s seen so far – but she isn’t a little shit about it like a lot of smart kids are.  She talks plenty in class, but she only says something when she has something worth saying.  He respects that.  (Gendry tends to be pretty tight-lipped himself, and finds himself utterly lost when he’s around chatty friends.)  

She’s pretty, too.   _Goddamnit,_ is she pretty.  As Aemon’s assistant Gendry’s of course not supposed to notice things like that.  But he is, after all, still a guy.  A guy who’s always had a thing for petite, tomboyish girls with short, dark hair and infectious laughs.  Gendry heard it once, Arya’s laugh, when she was walking out of Aemon’s class with a friend.  It’s been ringing in his head like a bell ever since.

Arya still doesn’t know he works for Aemon, which is a small blessing.  Gendry watches the days tick by on the calendar with great interest, hoping that the day for complaining about lab partner assignments passes so he’ll never have a reason to interact directly with her.  Because he suspects that if he actually  _talks_  to Arya Stark, he’ll fall for her.  And falling for a girl who’s seen a bunch of pictures of his dick before he’s even said hello to her is the last thing he needs. 

* * *

 

It’s the fourth week of the semester, finally.  Which means midterms are just around the corner.  Arya’s by herself in the chemistry lab, working on her midterm project that’s due tomorrow.

She thinks she’s got the titrations down right.  Finally.  And no thanks to her Jeyne, who totally blew off coming here tonight, even though this project is worth a quarter of their grade.  But even if Arya doesn’t have the titrations down perfectly, it’s getting late, and she’s way too tired and too hungry to focus on work anymore.

She’s just about to pack up her things and leave when the sound of someone entering the lab startles her, making her look up.  She breaks into a broad grin when she sees it’s the dark-haired guy who she’s seen around campus a few times.

He’s cute, this guy.  Really cute.  She doesn’t normally go for guys with messy black hair, but it works on him.  As do his gorgeous blue eyes, broad shoulders, and muscular build.  Arya’s tried to engage him in conversation a few times (once outside of Aemon’s classroom; once when she bumped into him in the Student Union).  Never successfully, though.  Whenever she smiles and waves at him he always just smiles back, answered her questions politely and hurried off.

He’s never actually been a jerk to her, though.  So she doesn’t think he’s an asshole.  He’s older, and she thinks he works for one of the professors on campus.  She figures he must just have a policy against hanging out with students.  Which, when Arya stops to think about it, makes total sense, really.

But they’re alone in the lab right now, and he’s not hurrying out of the room at the sight of her.  On a whim, she decides to try one last time.

“Hey,” she says, nodding and smiling at him.  “How’s it going?”

The guy looks up at her.  Arya’s never actually  _seen_  a deer caught in headlights before; but if she ever does, she’s pretty sure the look on its face will look just like the expression on this guy’s face right now.  

“Um,” he says.  He swallows audibly.  “It’s… you know.  It’s going.”  He looks, and sounds, incredibly nervous as he tries to return her smile.  Or she thinks that’s what he’s doing, anyway.  It looks more like a grimace, though.  Like he’s in physical pain.

“I’m Arya,” she says, pressing on.  “Arya Stark.  What’s your name?”

The guy closes his eyes and shakes his head.  He runs his hands through his dark black hair and sighs.

“Arya Stark,” he says, his eyes still closed.  “It’s nice to officially meet you.  But… um, you really don’t want to know my name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to wrap this little story up very soon. Once it's finished, I'll resume working on Encounters because lord, do I know that story needs to be updated. Thanks for your patience. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this final installment, we conclude the dick pic saga. Thank you so much for reading. :)

All things considered, Arya takes learning who Gendry actually is much better than he’d expected.

She doesn’t scream at him, or throw anything (breakable or otherwise), or threaten to sue either him or the University of Winterfell.

In fact, when he finally manages to say the five little words he’s been praying he’d never, ever have to say to her – “I’m… I’m… um… Gendry Waters” – for a very long moment Arya doesn’t do or say much of anything at all.  Her pretty gray eyes go owlishly wide.  Her jaw drops in what Gendry guesses must be surprise (because she doesn’t _look_ angry).

And then Arya does the very last thing he expects her to do.  Which is to say, Arya Stark begins to laugh.  It starts out quietly; more a nervous giggle than anything else.  But her laugh grows, and grows, until eventually it’s a full-on belly laugh.  It isn’t long before Arya Stark is laughing so hard she has to brace herself against a lab table with one hand to keep from falling over.

“Err,” Gendry says, stupidly, not knowing what else to say.  Talking to girls has always been difficult for him.  What the fuck is a guy supposed to say in a situation like _this?_

If Arya is expecting him to say something specific, though, she doesn’t show it.  Because she’s still laughing – so hard now that tears are forming in the corners of her eyes.  Gendry is beginning to feel like an idiot.  In fact, he’s pretty sure the only time in his life he’s felt like a _bigger_ idiot was the day he actually texted her those dick pics that started this whole mess to begin with.

After what feels like an hour – but which is probably really only a minute or so – Arya’s laughter finally begins to subside.  She hiccups a few times as she calms down enough to breathe normally.

“You’re really stupid,” she says.  She shakes her head at him and laughs again.  Fortunately, this time she stops laughing after only a few seconds.

“I am,” Gendry agrees readily.  “There’s no other way to describe me really.  I’m really, really stupid.”

Arya smiles at him.  “You’re cute though.”   Her smile broadens.  “And you seem really nice, even though you’re an idiot.”

Gendry has no idea what to do with that.

“Hey,” she says, pulling her phone out of her purse to check the time.  “Do you want to go grab something to eat?  I’m starving.”

The right side of Gendry’s mouth quirks up into a half smile.  “Um.  Really?”  This is not at all how he expected this conversation to go when he had nightmares about it these past few months.

“Really,” she assures him.  But her tone is serious now. “On one condition.”

“All right.”  Gendry realizes, with some surprise, that he would agree to just about anything right now if it’ll mean she’ll actually hang out with him tonight.

“Keep your dick in your pants in the restaurant.”

This time it’s Gendry’s turn to laugh.  He wouldn’t dream of ruining things now.

“It’s a deal,” he says, still laughing.

* * *

 

It doesn’t take long for Arya to fall – and fall hard – for the guy whose junk she saw months before she ever officially met him.

She quickly realizes there’s a lot more to Gendry Waters than just a gorgeous face and a pretty pair of blue eyes.  (And an ass that looks fantastic in his jeans.)  He’s also the hardest working person she’s ever met.  On their second date – at his apartment, over pizza, their ankles twining together under his small kitchen table – he tells her that he started working in Aemon’s lab as a stock boy.

“Yeah,” he says.   “I worked my way up from stocking Aemon’s supply closet to where I am now.”  He ducks his head a little, as though talking about himself like this embarrasses him.  Arya’s learned that Gendry doesn’t like taking credit for his accomplishments the way a lot of people do.  She finds it hopelessly endearing, if more than a little frustrating. 

Because Gendry _should_ be proud of himself.  Arya knows, just from being in Aemon’s class, that the elderly professor relies on Gendry to keep his classroom and lab running way more heavily than he does his actual graduate students. 

“You know,” she begins, rubbing her chin. “You’re pretty smart for a stupid person.”  She says it in a kind, teasing voice, her eyes soft in the dim light of the room. 

Gendry bites his bottom lip, clearly uncomfortable with her compliment.  He licks his lips nervously, and she watches him do it, wishing he’d just kiss her already. 

* * *

 

It isn’t until their third date – at her apartment; on a night when Sansa is staying over at Margaery’s, thank God; on a night they have the entire place to themselves – that Arya finally works up the courage to make a move.

They’re sitting together on the sofa, watching some stupid movie that Arya stopped paying attention to twenty minutes ago, when she kisses him.  Just like that. 

And then just like that Gendry’s pressing her back into the sofa cushions, his mouth hot and needy on hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she allows him access.

“Gendry,” she says, breathlessly.  It’s like she’s unleashed something primal in him, with that first press of her lips to his.  In seconds he’s gone from the quiet, shy boy who’s been reluctant to so much as hold her hand to a wild, feral creature.  And then quick as a flash he’s moving down her body, trailing a hot, wet line of nipping kisses along her collarbones and down her neck.

“Arya…”  His dick is hard, now, suddenly and presses needfully against her upper thigh through his jeans.  Fascinated, she tentatively reaches down and palms him through the thick fabric.  He groans, burying his face into her neck.  “Oh, Arya…”

Arya’s never been with a guy before.  Not like this, anyway.  But it feels right to be with Gendry like this, here, and now.  He’s kind.  No, he’s more than kind.  He’s _wonderful_.  Just as she’s thinking it, Gendry slowly unzips Arya’s jeans and pulls them down her legs.  And then she’s covered in gooseflesh that has nothing whatsoever to do with the chill of the room.

“Gendry,” she says suddenly, stopping him as he reaches for his own belt buckle.  It’s not that she doesn’t want this.  She _does_.  If she’s being honest with herself, she’s wanted it for weeks now.  But there’s a question that’s been burning in the back of her mind that she’ll absolutely need an answer to before she can go through with this.

“Hm?” He looks down at her and cocks his head to the side, clearly concerned.  “We don’t have to do anything, Arya.  It’s… it’s fine.  Seriously.”  He begins to pull her jeans back up her legs.

She shakes her head.  “No, it’s fine.  I want to.”  And she does.   She cups his face in her hands and he leans into her touch, humming contentedly.

“Then what is it?” he murmurs.

Arya closes her eyes and grits her teeth.  _Might as well just get it out of the way._

“Does it… um. You know.   Lean to the left when it’s hard, too?”  The words burst out of her before she has a chance to talk herself out of asking.  And they sound even stupider once they’re out of her mouth than they did in her head.

But she just has to know, first.  Before she sees it again.  She doesn’t know why; but she does.

Gendry’s eyes fly open in shock.

“Oh my God, Arya.”  He sits back on his haunches and groans.  “Arya, oh god, I’m still just… I keep blocking out the fact that you’ve already seen my dick… that you saw those pictures, and…”

Arya throws her arms around him and presses what she hopes are reassuring kisses to his neck.

“No, no, it’s fine, Gendry,” she says.  She holds him and rubs gentle circles into his back.  “You were an idiot.  But it’s over.  It’s fine.  It’s just… something I’ve been thinking about.  A lot, actually.  Since we’ve… you know.  Gotten closer to doing… well.  This.”  She coughs meaningfully into your hand.  “What your dick looks like when it’s hard, I mean.”

Gendry pulls back from her and looks her in the eye.

“Will I ever be able to make what I did up to you?” he asks, weakly.

Arya smiles at him.

“I think so,” she says.  She reaches over to him and begins undoing his belt buckle.  He covers her hands with his own as if to stop her, but she shrugs them off.

“Arya, what…”

She pops the button to his jeans and undoes the fly.  She looks inside.  She pulls him out of his boxer shorts.

And she smiles at what she sees.

“Okay,” she says, still smiling, as she measures and weighs the heft of his (still left-leaning, yes) in-the-flesh dick in her hands.  She looks up at him and smiles even wider.  “My burning question has been answered.  Now.  Where were we?”


	5. Epilogue -- a Halloween Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossingwinter asked for an Arya x Gendry ficlet based on an NSFW picture of a "penis ghost" on my tumblr. (Link below). I felt it was an appropriate epilogue to this story. ;)

**(Inspired by[this post.](http://jeeno2.tumblr.com/post/129752853678/jeeno2-the-fact-that-its-time-once-again-to))**

\--------------

“That’s not going to fit me, Arya.”

Arya puts down her scissors and the scrap of white fabric she’s cutting and looks over at Gendry, still sprawled out on their bed and frowning at her.  

“So?” Arya shrugs her shoulders and gets back to work.  “I just want a quick picture.  It’s not like you’ll be going out in public in this or anything."

Given how they first met, playing silly games with Gendry’s dick has been a mainstay of their relationship from the very first time they slept together.  Arya’s favorite game (and Gendry’s as well, if he’s being honest) is to see how long it takes her to get him from totally flaccid to rock hard using nothing but her right hand.  (Her record is ten seconds, according to her timekeeping – although he insists it’s more like thirty.)  

But they play other games sometimes, too.  Games like the one they’re about to play right now that involve seasonally-appropriate costuming, her cell phone, and lots and lots of snickering from them both.

“I’m just saying,” Gendry says.  He’s grinning from ear to ear now, making it hard for him to keep up the pretense that he’s annoyed by all of this.  “If you want something that looks realistic you’ll need to cut out a much, much bigger square out of that pillowcase…”

“It’ll be fine,” Arya says.  She snips two holes out of the fabric for eyes, and another, smaller hole below them for a mouth.  “There.  I think it’s finished.  Now, let’s get you ready for the camera.”

* * *

 

In the end, Gendry was right. 

Sort of.

“Told you,” he says, staring down at his rock-hard dick, which is now clad only in something Arya laughingly called a penis ghost when she announced this plan ten minutes ago.  “I’m really quite large, you know.  I’d think you’d have figured that out by now.”

But Arya knows a Gendry Waters who’s trying to weasel his way out of a good photography session when she sees one, and she won’t be thwarted that easily.

“Yeah, I guess the costume is little small.  But whatever,” she says, grinning back at him.  “It’s still funny.”  

“Funny?” Gendry says in mock offense.  “Don’t you mean scary?  Look how scary he looks in his costume.”  He makes mock moaning noises and thrusts into the air a few times for effect, getting into the role Arya’s asked him to play this morning with gusto.

“Fine, fine,” Arya says, smiling in spite of herself.  “It’s scary.  Terrifying.  Just hold still a second, will you, while I go get my phone.


	6. Epilogue, Part 2:  Walking 'round in Santa Underwear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final epilogue was written for gameofshipschallenges' December "When Hell Freezes Over" challenge. It's a part of this particular universe and is far too ridiculous to exist on its own -- so I'm putting it here. ;) Forgive me.

_Inspired by this[picture](http://jeeno2.tumblr.com/post/154575887268/walking-round-in-santa-underwear)._

* * *

Arya is at her kitchen table, considering different recipes for her parents’ Christmas dinner and cradling a mug of hot chocolate in her hands, when she’s interrupted by a very loud, distinctively Gendryish throat-clearing from about fifteen feet away.

Arya looks up from her tablet.  And she nearly drops her mug when she sees her boyfriend leaning against the fridge wearing skin-tight Santa boxers, complete with bright red suspenders – and nothing else.

“Well?” he asks.  “What do you think?”  He does a little spin, ostensibly so Arya can see his ridiculous outfit from all sides and therefore form a complete opinion.

Arya raises an eyebrow at him.  “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Gendry stops mid-spin.  His arms drop to his sides.  He frowns at her.  “What do you mean?”

Arya closes her eyes, sighs, and shakes her head.  She doesn’t know whether to laugh at him or to lose her shit.  And so before responding she counts very slowly to three, the way she used to do as a kid whenever her brothers did something that made her crazy.

“What… the  _hell_ are you wearing, Gendry?” she eventually asks, still fighting the urge to laugh.

He beams at her.  “I got this online at a specialty store,” he says.  “You know.  To get in the holiday spirit and all that.”  

 _Ah_.  So that’s where this is coming from.  She adopts a softer, more compassionate tone of voice before continuing. “I know you didn’t do much for Christmas growing up, Gendry, and that you’re still not really used to doing the sorts of things people usually do for Christmas, but this…”  She gestures to his ensemble.  “I mean. It’s… kind of inappropriate.”

He shrugs.  “I mean, sure. I get that.  I’m not an idiot.  I’m not gonna wear this to your parents’ house tonight or anything.”

Arya blanches at the very idea.  “Good.  That’s… that’s good, Gendry.”

He nods again.  “Oh god, Arya – of course I wouldn’t do that.  I just thought…. you know.”  He spins around for her again.  More slowly this time.  Arya takes the opportunity to admire his very fine backside before coming to her senses and returning to the matter at hand.  “I just thought it would be a sexy thing I could wear around the house while we’re getting ready today.  While you’re cooking or whatever.  You know,” he shrugs.  “For a laugh.”

“It’s not sexy though,” Arya points out.  “And it’s not very funny either.  I mean…”  She trails off, trying to find the most delicate way to put it.  “I mean, there’s Santa’s face on your crotch.”

He frowns.  “So?”

“And I can see your dick.”

His frown deepens.  “I thought you liked my dick.”

“I do.  I do,” she assures him.  “Just not in the same room as my toaster.”

“Well let’s get rid of the toaster then,” he suggests helpfully.  “Just for today.”

She gets out of her chair, crosses over to him, and punches him playfully on the shoulder.  “But I need the toaster to make these croquettes for tonight.  Can’t you just put on some pants instead?”

He grabs her hands and puts them on his shoulders.  He tugs her close, and she comes along willingly.  He kisses her on the cheek.  “But I  _am_  wearing pants,“ he murmurs teasingly into her ear.

In the end, they agree that Gendry gets to wear the underwear to his heart’s content, but only within the confines of their bedroom.  In the meantime, Arya agrees to buy him a Santa hat that will get him into the Christmas spirit in a way even her parents will understand.


End file.
